Chapter 9 (Rewrite)

===Artoria===

The night was cool as she and her riders rode through the mist-covered lands.

She was searching for her wayward daughter, but couldn't find her anywhere. She just hoped she was alright, same with her son, Godrick.

"My lord, we've been searching this area for hours. Maybe it's time for us to regroup with Sir Godrick." Sir Gawain said as he pulled his horse next to hers.

She stopped to think for a moment, looking across the mist-covered lands, surveying as far as her eyes could see.

"Maybe you're right." Her distorted voice said.

"Gather the men, we ride north!" She exclaimed before pulling her horse around and riding away.

===

They had been riding for hours, trying to catch up to where she presumed her son was. Hopefully he had news for her.

As they rode, they began to notice signs of battle, mainly the landscape that was completely destroyed.

They came to one of the many hills that overlooked the valley and all stopped in shock at what they saw.

For hundreds of feet the land was in ruin. No trees, no rocks, no vegetation. Nothing. It was all gone.

"By the Gods. What happened here?" One of her Knights asked.

"There!" Sir Tristan suddenly shouted, pointing to something only his archer eyes could see.

He suddenly took off on his horse before the rest of them followed, galloping down the hill and into the valley that was now dirt and shattered rock.

As they neared the epicenter of the ruin, Artoria saw what Tristan had pointed at.

A lone figure lying prone in the dirt.

"GODRICK!" Artoria shouted, digging her heels into Llamrei's sides, making her pull in front of the rest of the group with a burst of speed.

Nearing the lone prone figure, she leaped from her horse and slid next to him.

"By the Gods!" She exclaimed, taking in his body.

There was so much blood. His throat looked like it had been cut, there was a large cut of his right pectoral muscle and right bicep, as well as two wounds that looked to be stab wounds on his chest.

His right hand also looked damaged, but she couldn't tell as well because it was to his side, gripping a fistful of dirt.

Many more cuts and scratches littered his body, and as she looked him over with her eyes and hands, she suddenly recoiled as one of his massive hands snapped up towards her throat.

She was fast enough to try and knock the hand aside, but his strength was so much that when she struck his hand it didn't even impede it in the slightest.

Godrick's hand wrapped around her throat and he was going to crush whoever was trying to search him, but his blurred vision could make out Artorias lion-like helmet.

He suddenly let go of her, and his hand fell back to the ground limply before his vision went dark once more.

Artoria rubbed her throat with one hand before she looked to her riders who had finally arrived.

"Ride back to the castle, and have Morgan prepare her medical wing!" She yelled at Lancelot before reaching across her son's chest towards his other hand.

She pulled it towards her and prepared to pick him up before looking towards her most trusted Knight who had yet to move.

"NOW!" She screamed at him.

He yanked his reins to the right, and galloped away as fast as he could.

Artoria picked Godrick up over her shoulders before placing him on Llamrei's back, jumping into the saddle before digging her heels in her beloved horses sides once more, following after Lancelot.

"My King!" Galahad shouted after her.

"It's not safe to move him with those injuries!"

She looked back as Llamrei galloped at top speed, seeing her riders hot on her tail.

"If all those wounds didn't kill him, a few hour's ride won't either!" She yelled back at her companion.

===

Blitzing into the massive courtyard of the castle, Artoria yelled at her subjects to get out of the way before leaping her horse.

She turned around and placed her son on her shoulders once more before sprinting towards Morgan's tower.

"Move!" She yelled at people as she ran.

Her Knight took it upon themselves to run in front of her to clear the way, giving her a straight shot towards the tower.

She ran through the halls of her castle, her son's left arm swaying back and forth as she gripped his right with her right hand, and his left leg with her left hand.

She finally made it to Morgan's tower, and practically broke the door down as she entered the circular room.

Morgan had been warned that she was coming and had prepared a massive table that she directed Artoria to place Godrick on.

She did so before running back to the door and slamming it, ripping her helmet off and going back to his side.

"What happened to him?" Morgan asked as she began to clean his body.

"I don't know, we found him like this about an hour's ride north." Artoria answered, helping her sister.

"I don't know how he's alive, but it's a miracle." Morgan said as she cleaned Godrick's chest.

"It's no miracle Morgan. He's alive by sheer force of will." Artoria retorted, cleaning his throat.

Suddenly the doors were thrown open before Merlin walked in, closing them behind him.

"Move!" He said as he made his way over towards Godrick's body.

Artoria and Morgan both moved out of his way as he stood next to the table.

He seemed to be muttering something under his breath before he backed away and motioned for them to continue.

Morgan walked over to one of her tables and came back with a thread and needle.

"You know healing magic doesn't work on him, so we will use the old ways." She said before handing the needle and thread to Artoria.

Morgan walked back and grabbed a set for herself before returning to the table.

"You work on his pectoral and bicep and upper left chest, I'll get the others." She said as they began to work.

Merlin watched as they both worked. He was particularly impressed with Artoria's skill, and had assumed that she had had more than her fair share of stitches when magic hadn't been readily available.

As Artoria stitched up his pectoral and bicep, Morgan got his throat and center chest.

"If you're going to stand there, at least make yourself useful!" Morgan scorned him, pointing to another thread and needle.

"He needs his thigh and hand done." She said returning to what she was doing.

Not long after his chest and stomach were stitched up, they flipped him over and did the same with his back.

Once they were done cleaning him up, Merlin once more told them to move as he took their place, studying his back.

"Fascinating." He muttered under his breath.

"Merlin?" Artoria asked.

"Oh, nothing my dear. Nothing at all, continue please." He said taking a step back.

As Merlin watched them work, he couldn't help but stare at the dragon brand on Godrick's back, feeling a small pang of guilt for his role in the boy's life. He had in fact, not been a good father. But that was a secret he would take to his grave.

Looking back at the brand, he couldn't help but notice that something seemed off about it. Some sort of curse Infested the scar.

But then again… It wasn't really his problem. As long as it didn't keep Godrick playing his role, he didn't really care.

===Godrick===

A few days later, Godrick finally opened his eyes, and looked around.

He was in his room. Strange. The last thing he remembered was laying in the dirt, gripping to life.

It was hard to breathe, like something was constricting his airway in his throat.

He felt so hungry, tired and many other emotions and sensation at the same time, but the thing he felt the most… Was pain.

Looking over his body, he had bandages all across his chest, arms and left leg.

He groaned as he sat up, sharp pain lancing through most of his body. But he didn't care. He needed to see his mother, he needed to tell her what had happened.

He placed his feet on the ground and pushed himself to stand.

The bandages around his thigh immediately turned red as blood leaked from the wound, but again. He didn't care.

Walking towards the door with a heavy limp, he opened it before walking out.

He saw a maid walking towards him with a pitcher of water, probably coming to clean his wounds. But the moment she saw him, she stopped at the sight, shock on her face.

"Sir Godrick! What are you doing up!?" She asked in a panic, setting the pitcher of water down on a table nearby.

He couldn't speak, his throat was so dry. He walked towards her without a word and reached for the pitcher, ignoring her as he brought it to his lips.

Pain shot through his throat as he drank, causing him to spit all the water he had taken into his mouth all over the poor maid. He began to cough, feeling like his throat was about to rip itself open from his choking.

He fell to one side, but caught himself on the wall before pushing himself off, and walking past the maid who continued to fuss over him, ignoring her wet clothes.

Ignoring her, he walked to the only place Artoria would be. Her office.

Opening the door, he found it empty, which meant only one thing. She was holding court.

Still ignoring the maid who pulled at his arm and ordered him back to bed, he limped towards the massive double doors that lead to the Great Hall.

He reached the doors and leaned against them, his head throbbing from all the pain.

With a heave, he pushed the massive doors inward, against the maids light slaps of condemnation.

"You can't go in like that, you need to get back to your bed!" She furiously whispered to him before he pushed the massive doors open.

===Artoria===

Artoria was seated on her Throne, listening to a scout who had been sent out to search for Mordred. No one but her son knew what might have happened to her, but she didn't know when, or even if he would wake up.

"So you lost their tracks?" She asked the scout who had just given her the news.

"Yes my King. I am sorry." The man said nervously.

She leaned back in her Throne, her right hand coming to her chin as she thought.

Suddenly, the doors were thrown open, and her son walked in.

"Godrick?" She said, rising from her Throne.

The Knights of her Round Table all muttered amongst themselves at his entrance, astonishment flooding the room. They had all seen his injuries and knew no man should be standing after such an ordeal.

Godrick slowly limped down the long hall, the nobility whispering to themselves.

He was followed by a maid who bowed her head in submission as she walked closely behind him, whispering furious nothing to his back.

He finally made it to the dais, and with a great effort, and a grimace, knelt.

He was breathing heavily as he bowed his head, and the maid also took a position behind him.

His bandages were all bloody, having reopened the scabs that had formed.

He raised his head and began to speak.

Or tired at least.

Nothing came out when he opened his mouth. He closed it and grimaced once more before he shook his head, and tried again.

But nothing.

He reached up with his left hand and rubbed his throat out of pain before looking at his mother, anguish and fear in his eyes.

He had lost his voice.

It had been taken. Taken by the Warlord.

===Godrick, Age nineteen===

Two years had passed since he had fought the Warlord.

Two long years.

Godrick himself was seated on the hill overlooking the Castle of Camelot, where he and his sister had come to get away from everything.

He sat in the long grass, his massive horse grazing nearby.

He had completely healed from all his wounds, and had grown stronger from them. Though his voice had never returned.

He had increased his training with his mother, as she was the only one who could keep up with him now.

He was also taller now, reaching seven feet.

He had tempered his anger, and now didn't lose control of himself anymore.

He took a new fondness to sitting quietly and listening to everything around him, as his senses had become more acute after losing his voice.

That's why he liked to come to this hill and think. There were no fights, no arguments, and most importantly no maids.

They had taken to fussing over him after his fight with the Warlord, and followed him everywhere like he was disabled.

He wasn't stuck in a wheelchair or anything like that, and even if he was, he would be fine for crying out loud.

In these past two years, much had happened.

Artoria suspected Marquess Grasso had been in the pocket of the Warlord, and she had been right. They had raided one of the monasteries that he visited frequently, and had found letters of correlation between the two.

Godrick had personally led the raid, and found the letters himself.

That was two weeks ago, and he was ordered by his mother to personally go, and bring the good Marquess in.

He would lead his army to Marquess Grasso's Castle, and obliterate everything.

His orders were simple.

Kill everyone in the city, and bring Grasso to his mother.

The two weeks they had waited, was for some of the more subtle members of the Round Table to go in and extract every civilian who wasn't an agent for the Warlord, which they had come to find out, wasn't very many.

His orders were harsh, but then again, it was a harsh world.

He looked around himself, wishing his sister was still here by his side. But she wasn't. He remembered something the Warlord had said before delivering her final stab.

"You probably can't hear it. But your sister is begging for you to get up."

Mordred had stolen Clarent and had met up with the Warlord for some reason. But he knew that if the Warlord's words were true, it hadn't gone how Mordred had expected.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as a cool breeze hit him, making the grass and trees sway.

He listened to the sounds of the wilderness before he opened his eyes and stood up, clicking his tongue to get his horse to come to him.

He patted it's neck before jumping into the saddle, feeling the wind pick his long golden hair up behind him as he rode towards the castle.

===

Reaching the stables, a messenger met him, and told him that Morgan would like to see him.

Wondering what his "other" mother needed, he quickly took care of his horse, and made his way towards the tower that Morgan called home.

He knocked, then entered the circular room where Morgan stood, admiring a set of armor in the back half room.

It was tall, with silver and golden accents across it. It was a mix of leather and steel that made it look more like a walking fortress than a suit of armor.

As he entered, Morgan turned and gave him a small sneer.

"What do you think? Impressive isn't it?" She asked.

He came to stand beside her, towering over her as he looked at the armor.

Something he noticed were the parts of the armor, mainly the chest, gauntlets, and belt around the waist, looked as if they were missing something.

His unasked question was answered as Morgan brought his attention to several gems laid out on the table behind them.

They were a deep blue, and looked as if they had smoke wafting off of them.

"The pinnacle of Merlin and my own study, gems that convert magical or kinetic energy into pure power, which you can use how you see fit." She said, looking at the gems almost reverently.

Godrick and Merlin's relationship had been almost nonexistent, save a few comforting words here and there about his voice, or his sister.

Other than that, he didn't really interact with the man, as he stayed by Artoria's side almost every moment.

"We'll place the gems in the armor tonight, so you can have them tomorrow morning. Come back early tomorrow morning so we can run some tests, then you can be on your way towards Marquess Grasso's territory." She said before practically shooing him from her laboratory.

Walking down the stairs, Godrick met Merlin, who was walking to Morgan's lab. The two passed each other before Merlin turned and spoke to him.

"Godrick, my dear boy." He said, turning.

Godrick turned as well, and looked at the man who was now eye level with himself, standing a few steps ahead of him.

"I… I know i've been cold to you ever since… well… always really." He said, leaning against his staff.

"I just want you to know that I'm glad you are safe. You have many more things to contribute to Camelot before your time comes." He said with a smile, which Godrick mistakenly took as genuine.

He slightly bowed his head before he continued to walk, but Merlin stayed in the same spot, his smile fading from his face.

"You poor young fool." He said in a heavy voice. He didn't like what needed to happen in the coming days, but if Camelot were to succeed, and if Artoria was to become the King she needed to be, then it was all worth it in the end.

"I am… truly sorry." He said before continuing his walk up the stairs towards Morgan's laboratory.

===

The morning after, Godrick woke, and walked to Morgan's laboratory, where she, Artoria, Merlin, and three servants met him.

"Good. Let us begin." Morgan said, turning to the armor behind everyone.

"Godrick, step forward." She commanded.

He did so, and the three servants began dressing him in the armor. It was extremely heavy to them, but to him it just felt like a second skin.

The armor was strapped to his body Morgan and Merlin walked around him, making sure everything was in place.

After about ten minutes, he was handed his helmet. He was stopped from putting it on however as Merlin walked forward with the glowing blue gems.

"With these, your armor will become like a second skin to you. And you will instinctively understand how to use these gems. They are incredibly powerful, and have no limit to the power they can store that we have found. Use them wisely." He said while placing each gem in its slot.

As soon as the last gem was slotted in its place, Godrick felt power flood his body, enhancing his already unimaginable strength to new heights.

He clenched his fist as he looked down at it, power surging through his body.

He rocked his head from side to side, letting his neck pop before rolling his shoulders.

"I have something for you as well. I'll meet you by the front gate." Artoria said, placing a hand on his right forearm before walking away.

He looked down at her and nodded before continuing to look over his armor.

After a few more minutes, he too took his leave, and walked down from Morgan's tower.

It was finally time for him to leave and prove himself a worthy Knight to his mother.

She had offered him multiple times to join her Knights of the Round Table, but he had refused her each time, feeling like it was a betrayal of his sister.

He would only join the Round Table when she did.

He walked from the main hall, helmet under his arm as he strode towards his horse.

His mother was standing next to the massive beast, patting it's neck affectionately before she turned to him, motioning more servants forward.

They carried a massive ten foot tall halberd, it was made of the strongest material they could find. It's head had ornate engravings in it, being split in two halves.

One was the Ax blade, and the other a hammer with dozens of pyramid like spikes.

Artoria reached out and grabbed the steel shaft of the weapon, lifting it into the air with both hands.

"I've been waiting to give this to you for years." She said, looking the weapon up and down.

"I knew the moment you choose a weapon different from a sword that I would have to have something forged for you. So after I saw you with your first halberd, I had our best blacksmiths make this weapon." She said, holding it out to him.

He reached down with his right hand, and gripped the shaft of the halberd.

The moment he did, he knew… This weapon would accompany him for the rest of his existence.

He brought it to his side before letting the butt end smash into the ground, causing cracks to form around it.

It was heavy. So heavy six grown men had to carry it over to his mother. But he liked it.

Looking back down to his mother, he smiled and brought her into an embrace.

After a moment, he stepped away, and placed his helmet on his head, and hoisted himself into the saddle.

Hefting his mighty halberd onto his shoulder, he looked around him at the army that would follow him, and at Lancelot who was by his side.

He nodded at his mentor, who bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Godrick went first, his horse trotting through the gate before Lancelot followed, shouting for the army to advance.

"Forward!"

===

"By the Gods. There must be at least ten thousand of them." Lancelot said, looking at the army in front of them.

The army of Camelot had been sent out to destroy Marquess Grasso and his allies, who had been found out to be in the service of the Warlord.

They had gathered their forces, and marched to the Marquess' territory, but were surprised to meet another army on their way.

"Son of a bitch, it's Marquess Grasso." One of the Generals under Lancelot said, pointing his finger towards the army.

Lancelot squinted his eyes, trying to see what his sharp eyed General had before his eyes went wide.

"You're right!" He said looking at the man.

"But what is he doing here? He shouldn't have known we were marching to his territory. We kept that information locked down while we prepared." He said, shaking his head.

"My Lords, movement." The General said, still looking out to the enemy army.

Five or so figures were on their horses, riding towards them with a white flag raised, indicating they wished to speak.

"I think that's Marquess Grasso. I have half a mind to rain arrows down on him right now." Lancelot said, his face filled with sour dissatisfaction.

"Why don't you, my Lord?" The General asked.

"Because we need him alive. And honestly, I want to pull him from his saddle and drag him behind my horse as we ride back to the Capital." Lancelot said, turning to the man.

"You'll come with Godrick and I." He commanded, pulling himself into his saddle.

Godrick was still on his horse, a bit disinterested in all this nonsense. He wanted nothing more than to leap high into the air and come crashing down on the enemy army before he ripped through them like a farmer through wheat.

"Come on then, let's go meet them." Lancelot said, watching as the five men stopped halfway between the armies.

Two of the men were Marquess Grasso himself, and his little fat bastard he called a son. The other three were people Godrick recognized, but only barely. One was a massive man, probably the size of Godrick himself or maybe a little taller. He was one of the Warlords Generals named Anthrax.

He wore gold and black armor, and had a massive hammer that's head was shaped like a goat on his back.

His shoulder pauldrons were themed as goats as well, their horns reaching to the sky.

The man's helmet had two large horns on it, and it's face had two lines cut in it, making it look as if it were crying. It only covered the top half of his face, where his big bushy beard that was well taken care of was brought together by a leather band at upper chest.

To his right rode a woman who wore slick black armor, and had a long thin blade strapped to her back, as well as a few knives strapped to various parts of her body.

The last man was very old and very skinny. He almost looked like he was a skeleton, as his skin was stretched over his body. His gaunt face looked strange, as his skin looked to be stretched across his skull, giving him a sickly look. Though his eyes were as sharp as a vipers.

He held a long staff in his hands, and wore robes that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in months, along with a long beard that reached his stomach.

Godrick rode to Lancelot's right, while the General rode to his left while the three went to meet the other five riders. The three came to a stop as they neared the other riders, and waited for them to speak.

"Sir Lancelot," Marquess Grasso said as he brought his horse forward.

The beast was massive, muscles rippling under its black hide as it carried the almost equally massive man on its back.

The Marquess looked like a massive blob sitting on the horse, and Godrick couldn't help but feel bad for the beast… But he also had another question.

How the hell the Marquess even got into the saddle

"It's a pleasure to see you on this fine summer day. What brings you out here?" The man asked.

"By the Gods Grasso, how did you even get into the saddle?" Lancelot retorted, insulting the man.

The Marquess' face twitched as Lancelot spoke, but he quickly recovered.

"You wound me Lord!" He said, placing a hand on his chest as he tried to give a disarming smile.

"I don't think any blade could pierce any vital organs with all that fat surrounding them, so I think you'll be fine." Lancelot replied.

Grasso's disarming demeanor fell from his face as a cold and furious expression took its place.

"You son of a bitch, how dare someone like you speak to me like that!" He said, pointing a pudgy finger towards him.

"Godrick, the next time he points one of those sausages at me, I want you to go and pull him from his saddle. I'll give you some rope, and you know what to do with it." He said, referring to wanting to drag the good Marquess behind his horse.

Godrick didn't react at all, but it would have given him all the pleasure in the world to do just that.

Marquess Grasso leaned to the side and spat for a response, but other than that, he did nothing.

"So… What is all this? I assume we just ran into the Warlords army, coming to take the Throne of Camelot?" Lancelot said, looking past them at the massive army.

Grasso's smirk reappeared, his yellow teeth thick with plaque.

"This is only one part of it. We will meet the others when we arrive at the capital." He said.

Lancelot's eyes narrowed at the fat man before he turned his horse around, and began to ride away.

"How dare you turn your back to me!" Grasso yelled, his jowls quivering.

Lancelot just waved his hand as he continued to ride, leaving the rest to Godrick and the General.

"You will surrender. We will take you back to the Capital where you will stand trial for your crimes." The General said, taking charge.

"If I want you to speak, I will ask you to. Until then, you keep your mouth shut!" Grasso hissed venomously.

"Struck a nerve it seems. It's like he doesn't know what to do when someone stands up to his fragile ego." The General said, getting a slight noiseless chuckle from Godrick.

They all stopped in surprise as the big man among them, Anthrax, started to laugh as well. It was deep and rich, and he hunched over his saddle before looking over to Grasso, pointed a finger at him, and continued to laugh.

"My Gods, that's funny!" The man said, taking his helmet off his head before wiping tears from his eyes.

"Grasso, you better keep your fat ass in the back, because you know I'll let you die the first chance I get." The man continued to say as he laughed.

"What's your name sir?" Anthrax asked, looking to the General, his infectious attitude lightening the mood a small bit.

"Aldtor sir, and you?" General Aldtor asked.

"Anthrax. The Warlord's top General. This to my left is the lovely Noel, to the right is the sack of bones we call Grizrig. And you already know those two fat sacks of shit." Anthrax said, leaning over and spitting into the grass at his horses feet.

General Aldtor had a confused look on his face before asking what was on his mind.

"You seem to hate each other. Why are you both on the same side?"

Anthrax looked back at Noel, who gave him a shrug.

"Warlords orders. We're to put his fat ass on the Throne, but I think he won't fit…" He answered, though he said the last part more quietly as if thinking it over in his mind.

Grasso was about to explode from all the insults Throne his way, but the old man stopped him from speaking by raising his staff towards the man.

"You keep your mouth shut, or I'll be sure to turn your body inside out." Grizrig said in a soft but cruel voice.

Marquess Grasso was shaking now, and his son looked as if he were about to soil himself.

"Get to the back. But leave your bastard." Anthrax ordered Grasso.

"M- my Lord?" He asked in an uncertain voice.

"Did I stutter?" Anthrax snarled at the man, making him jump in his saddle.

Marquess Grasso looked at his son, who gave him a worried look before he wrenched on his reins hard to the left, and made his way behind the army.

Grasso's son looked around before Anthrax broke the silent tension.

"You boy. How old are you?" He asked.

"Twenty." The son answered.

Anthrax turned and looked at General Aldtor.

"I propose a duel. This little shit, vs him." Anthrax said, gesturing to Godrick with his chin.

The young man looked horrified, looking between Anthrax and Godrick.

"I am… So confused." General Aldtor said.

"It's his father we need to put on the Throne. Not his son." Anthrax said callously.

The young man wrenched his reins much like his father, trying to escape before his horse suddenly fell dead to the ground.

Grizrig then gently led his horse over to the young man who was getting to his feet.

"If you try to run again. I'll make your death so painful, it will make what you did to those young women look gentle in comparison. Now, get over there." Grizrig said in his quiet but fearsome voice, referring to something only he and the other Generals were aware of.

The young Nobleman soiled himself before he awkwardly walked over to Anthrax.

"Think of this as a gesture of good will before we start our own battle." The big man said before bowing his head and turning his horse around to trot away.

"What the hell is going on right now?" Aldtor said, looking at Godrick who just shrugged his shoulders.

"Stay here and wait for my signal. Don't let him escape." Aldtor said, turning his horse towards where Lancelot was and riding away.

He soon arrived next to Lancelot, and explained the situation.

"Interesting…" Lancelot said.

"It seems the good Marquess has no friends left, and the Warlord is making that clear to him. They just needed to get into the Kingdom, so they used the weakest link. Now they don't need him, and they're making him suffer for it." Lancelot said deep in thought.

"Give Godrick the signal." He said to General Aldtor.

"Yes Lord." Aldtor said before nodding to one of his men, who raised Camelot's standard high into the sky.

Godrick saw the flag, and dismounted from his horse.

"Please sir, I don't know who you are, but my father is very powerful. I'm sure we can come to some sort of understanding!" The young Nobleman pleaded.

Godrick stuck his polearm into the ground before slapping his horse on the rear, making it run back towards his own army.

"Please sir!" The young man continued to beg.

Godrick rached up and took his helmet off his head and placed it atop his halberd head next to him.

The young man's demeanor completely changed when looking at Godrick's face, his fear leaving him to be replaced with cold hatred.

"You!" He spat.

Godrick said nothing as he stared down at the young man before him.

"If I had known it was you, I would have gladly fought you. You made me look foolish in front of the Warlords Generals!" He hissed.

He ripped his ornate sword from its scabbard before pointing it's tip towards Godrick.

"I'll give you the dignity of a swift death. Either walk onto my sword, or I'll kill you slowly. The choice is yours." He said arrogantly.

Godrick had to tilt his head to the side, confusion on his face as he looked at the Nobleman.

Was he so stupid that he didn't know who he was up against? Surely he knew of Godrick's strength.

'No matter.' Godrick thought to himself before walking towards the young man.

"So you have chosen a swift death hm? Not surprised. Against someone like me, you would have nev-" His words were cut off as Godrick batted the sword away with his left hand before bringing it back towards the young man, slapping him with just enough strength to knock him to the ground.

Grasso Jr squealed as he hit the ground, holding a hand to his face. It came away bloody as he pulled it away, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Y- Y- You struck me!" He screamed, looking up at Godrick who walked towards him slowly.

"HOW DARE YOU STRIKE ME!" He screamed before an agonized shriek came from his mouth.

Godrick, who was now next to the fallen man, stomped downwards on his left knee, turning it to mush.

This was no duel. It was an execution. One that Godrick would enjoy.

He knew of this young man's exploits, and the horrific things he had done to those in his territory.

Reaching down, he grabbed both of the man's arms while still stepping on his left leg, and lifted him into the air.

"GAAAHH!" The young man screamed as Godrick pulled him up, tension on his left leg.

Suddenly, more bones snapped, and flesh tore apart. With a popping noise, the leg came free, and Godrick held Grasso jr up for all to see.

Blood poured from where his leg had been, covering the ground beneath him in crimson.

Another scream came from his mouth as Godrick began to pull the young Lord's arms in opposite directions, though his screams did nothing to halt or speed up the torment. The sounds of tendons ripping, bones being pulled from one another, and finally, flesh tearing could be heard.

The right shoulder popped first, making the arm extend inside the flesh. But in the end, it all tore from the rest of the body. The rest of the young man fell limply to one side as he passed out from the pain, so Godrick dropped him and began walking away.

He picked up his halberd in his right hand and held the Lord's arm in the other before he cocked his own arm back, and threw it hard enough to reach where Anthrax was standing, having dismounted his horse.

The big man looked down at his feet where the arm had landed. Then smiled.

"Prepare for battle!" He shouted, turning around and looking at his men.

"Are we sure about this?" Noel asked, looking at the big man.

He turned to her and placed a hand on her lower stomach, feeling the slight bulge there.

"You know I don't want you here." He said down to her.

"And you know I won't leave you." She replied.

He nodded. "Just keep yourself safe." He said.

"I will." She answered, placing her own hand on his, which was still on her stomach.

Anthrax turned around to see the army before him, and the lone Knight in the center of the two armies.

Godrick reached up, and took his helmet from atop his halberd, and placed it on his head before ripping his weapon from the ground.

He walked past Grasso Jr, who had regained consciousness and was now trying his best to crawl back towards his father's forces.

Godrick stopped, seeing Anthrax's army start moving forward before he looked back at his own, seeing them preparing to charge.

He rolled his shoulder, and cracked his neck back and forth as he prepared to run forward, not waiting for his own forces.

Lancelot, who was at the front of Camelot's army, raised a horn to his lips, and blew.

And at that, the two armies charged at each other, and the first battle for Camelot's survival began.